The Kuiper Belt Deception

By Donald F. Averill

As an experiment, in 2080 the International Space Agency has stranded four couples in a complex built inside a small ball of ice about five billion miles from Earth. However, the young astronauts have a plan to return to the third planet from the sun without help from the agency. They have been betrayed in other ways, beyond being marooned. The f

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Jul 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946801982

Donald F. Averill

Donald F. Averill, Ph.D, retired from teaching chemistry at Eastern New Mexico University in 2002. Other novels by the author include The Lighthouse Library, The Lighthouse Fire, The Kuiper Belt Deception, The Antarctic Deception, and the award winning An Iceberg's Gift. He lives in a fixer-upper in Troutdale, Oregon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Training Camp

T hat trajectory is too complicated, Miss Nelson. Try it without Saturn; a close approach to Jupiter should give the velocity boost you need. Kuiper belt trainee, Virginia Nelson, a brunette with short hair, not beautiful, but pretty with dimples, and displaying a stance of confidence, was at the main display console waiting for her team’s results. She didn’t have to take more than one breath before the solution appeared on the viewer. A super computer had calculated the results for her multi-body analysis, but the mission time and the ship velocity were not quite what she had expected. She felt a bit discouraged. Maybe Sunul was right, she thought; too many orbital maneuvers were causing her trajectory to score below the other students’ high marks, despite her short mission time. She had included too many gravitational forces and orbital corrections to solve the class exercise most efficie ntly.

Gina, as she liked to be called, eliminated Saturn’s orbit and mass from the equations and said, Reset—Run. She looked at Sunul as a chorus of cheers erupted from the other trainees. His advice was right-on. She was a little irritated with Sunul, but somewhat envious of his seemingly intuitive knowledge of the steps used to solve manned vehicle and orbital calculations. She had yet to ask him the source his brain implant (BI), or whether he inherited his superior intellect from his birth parents. She backed away from the orbital display board and controller, making room for the next of the sixteen contestants, and slowly drifted to the gray, almost white, wall next to six-foot Sunul, who was leaning against the mock command ship bulkhead.

She whispered, Want to go out after this class exercise?

Sunul grinned, You’re asking me out? He had been watching Gina with great interest, wondering how to get her attention. He had discovered Gina was Doctor Nelson, a medical doctor. Most all the trainees were PhDs. Sunul had two doctorates: mathematics and physics. She had noticed his furtive glances but didn’t want to encourage him too soon. He was handsome, though. She wanted him to know she wasn’t a pushover.

No, idiot. Do you want to go outside the complex and get some fresh air? Being alone in the desert is almost like being cooped up in here. After three weeks, I haven’t even begun to get used to it. I’d like to bake in the sun for a while—get some vitamin D.

After that blonde finishes her simulation—then we’ll go. Sunul Burke wanted to get a rise out of Gina, or VN, as he called her the majority of the time, and he thought he would try the blonde routine on her. It seemed to be working. She turned away, shaking her head, and began walking toward the outdoor hatchway.

Well, I’m going outside for about fifteen minutes. Do what you want.

Sunul tipped his lean frame forward from the wall and took several quick steps to catch up with Gina. She had activated the exit panel and the seal was released with a swooshing sound. Sunul could feel the warm dry air rushing into the air-conditioned enclosure as the doorway swung open just far enough to allow a human body passage. The complex was hidden within sheer rock that rose over two-hundred feet above the desert floor. Sandstone and volcanic rock debris had accumulated around the rock pillar for tens of thousands of years. About fifty feet above the desert sand, there was a narrow path, no more than two feet wide, flush against the rock wall, which extended part way around the towering, barren stone, eons-old, skyscraper. The debris dropped at a thirty-five degree angle reaching out seventy feet or more to the almost flat, nondescript, surrounding desert.

Camouflaged to blend with the rocks, the exterior of the door was difficult to detect unless one was closely inspecting the rock wall. The interconnected cylindrical rooms on earth replicated the system the astronauts would occupy on 5K23m in a couple of years, if all the preparations were completed satisfactorily.

The designation 5K23m was for a one-kilometer diameter moon of Kuiper Body Object (KBO) 5,023, a nearly spherical icy-mass of diameter 261 kilometers. The tiny moon, more dense than its parent body, contained a significant amount of iron, a minute quantity of other heavy metals, and completed an orbit of KBO5023 in nearly eleven days; ten point nine two, to be more exact, and was to be the astronauts’ home for approximately forty-three years, travelling at one-tenth light speed (c) to Alpha Centauri. The five relatively new nuclear-electronic-railgun engines had a limiting velocity of point 0.225 c, limited by the mass of 5K23m. The calculations were, of course, only approximations. The tiny moon’s advance team’s report would pin down the actual numbers.

"So you didn’t wait for the blonde’s dance at the console? She’s always trying to get the attention of the men. I will admit she has a sexy body. I don’t know about her intellect though.

Nope. She’s a mechanical engineer/HVAC specialist; we would never be paired up. Besides, she’s too slow entering data. She’d miss orbital adjustments and end up heading the ship for the galactic center. I don’t mind her gyrations though. She’s beautiful, and that stimulates my hormones, however, I’m sticking with the body I know most about. He scanned Gina’s figure from head to toe.

Gina turned away and commented, That must be your own. You don’t know anything about my body.

Sunul smiled, You don’t know anything about my imagination, VN.

Gina pointed to the desert floor and started climbing down the rocky slope to the yellowish sedimentary material below. Sunul followed, picking his way through the obstacle course of large rocks sprinkled with smaller pieces of debris, occasionally jumping from boulder to boulder. Gina sat down in the shade of a large boulder at ground level, removed her boots, and dug her bare feet into the warm light-yellow sand, leaned back and pushed her fingers into the warm ground. She brushed some strands of hair from her eyes, looked up at Sunul and inquired, Whose BI did you get?

I don’t think I should tell you, unless you promise to tell me yours.

I don’t know if I should tell you, he smiled. It’s kind of personal, the thing I might only tell my physician or psychiatrist, if I had a shrink.

Well, I’ll find out eventually—if I’m chosen to go on the mission with you. I’ll be your doctor.

Don’t forget, you’ll also be my wife. Okay, I’ll tell you. My BI was the last fraction of Stephen Hawking’s brain.

Gina sucked in her breath, pulled her feet from the sand, and shook her head. My God! No wonder you are so good at everything celestial.

Your turn. Who was it?

She said slowly, Carson.

Sunul laughed loudly, Johnny Carson? The comedian? No wonder you’re so funny!

No, you dimwit! She threw a handful of sand at Sunul. Dr. Ben Carson, the pediatric brain surgeon that ran for President in 2016.

That’s very impressive. I thought his segments would have been used up long ago.

Apparently not. He was my first choice. There was no delay in the surgery. I only wore that protective head cap for two days.

Same here. Have you noticed any post-operative differences in your thinking? Sunul was curious about VN’s medical knowledge, his hadn’t changed. He still had to work hard to retain medical procedures, but he noticed a dramatic increase in his ability to solve orbital problems. He could now see the solutions to problems in three dimensions, whereas before surgery, he had to do the mathematics and physics on paper and submit data to a computer to verify his calculations. Difficult mathematics was now as easy as middle school plane geometry and trigonometry.

Uh-huh. I used to work at remembering medical terms, diagnostic procedures, and names of drugs. Now those things just pop into my head like magic. I surprise myself every day.

You surprise me every day, Gina. I think I’m bonding to you.

Just don’t get too serious too soon. I’m not stuck on you—yet. She smiled and tossed another handful of sand at Sunul with her right hand.

Sunul noticed the sand moving a few inches from VN’s left hand. He was in the sun, so he squinted to see into the shade.

Don’t move, Gina! There’s a scorpion next to your left hand.

Gina froze and glanced down where her left hand was half-covered in sand. The arachnid was light-brown and as long as her index finger; a dangerous bark scorpion, its stinger arched above its body. Can you cover it with something so it can’t sting me?

Sunul removed his cadet shirt as rapidly as he could. As he moved behind the scorpion, he scooped a couple of handfuls of sand into his shirt and swung the makeshift club at the segmented body of the scorpion, crushing it against the fine particles of rock where it had been hiding.

Gina sighed and jumped to her feet. Thank you! That little shit could have ruined my career. That’s the most venomous scorpion in the United States.

Sunul, shirtless, standing in the sun, looked like an Olympic gymnast; hairless chest and highly developed arms and shoulders, You’re welcome. I thought those creatures were nocturnal.

They are. I must have interrupted its daylight snooze by digging into the sand where it’s shady and a lot cooler than in the sun.

Gina put her right hand behind Sunul’s neck and pulled him to her. She gave him a kiss he would remember for a long time. She had wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He was certainly above average in the looks department and his physique was that of a physical fitness trainer. She imagined doing exercises with him—naked.

Sunul had expected his first kiss with VN would come after a casual date to the movie module, where every Academy Awards picture, since the awards began in 1929, was available, as well as every color film ever produced. When he knew the kiss was coming, he reached for Gina’s hips and could feel the curves to her waist. He drew her body closer and the kiss continued until she stepped back and whispered, I think that’s enough for today, Mr. Burke. Her grayish-blue eyes looked into Sunul’s piercing black eyes, her thoughts of making love were tempered with a little regret, but knowledge of the courtship protocol devised by senior space pioneers had to be followed, or risk expulsion from the program. Gina didn’t know when she was being observed, cameras were hidden throughout the complex. She desperately wanted to be one of the first earthlings to travel to the stars. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Recalling the protocols, Sunul stepped away from Gina, but he wished the code of conduct didn’t exist. It was difficult to be spontaneous with cameras watching every move.

Gina pointed across the yellowish desert sand at two black spots emerging from a cloud of dust, apparently gliding across the desert floor. What’s that?

Sunul climbed the incline about six feet and looked where Gina was pointing. Looks like two gasoholics coming towards us, riding turn-of-the-century dirt bikes. I wonder where they got their fuel. They’re burning up the sand—maybe running from someone; probably the Air Force Police. He had gotten higher off the ground to avoid the mirage caused by the refraction of light through the hot and cool surface layers of air hovering above the sand. He would have to climb higher to get an even better view.

Do you think they can see us?

I doubt it, but maybe we should go back inside anyway. I need to get a clean shirt.

Please don’t ask me to do your laundry. Those days are over. Modern women frown on that.

I wouldn’t think of it, but would you give me a back rub?

Funny, Sunul. You almost made me laugh. I know we’re to avoid contact with outsiders, but it might be fun to talk to someone new. We don’t have to tell them anything about the complex. Gina glanced at Sunul for support.

Yeah. Okay, let’s see who they are and what they’re doing out here. We can always call a desert patrol unit.

The two cadets watched the distant riders converge on the large, fluted, stalagmitic rock formation that concealed the training complex. Sunul stepped over to his shirt and cautiously lifted the material to see if the scorpion was dead. The body of the poisonous arachnid had been crushed, leaving a wet spot on his rumpled shirt. He removed the sand and used the shirt like a napkin, scooped up the dead scorpion, and folded it up in his shirt. He was thinking he might use the scorpion’s body to some advantage if the travelers were hostile.

VN was still watching the riders, a few hundred yards away, approaching fast. She could hear the high frequency whine of the gasoline engines which had no longer been made after 2040. All modern vehicles had solar-powered, electric motors, and the only use of hydrocarbons was for toys, decorations, and building materials.

The two motorcycles, each with a single rider, slowed, the engines silenced, coasted toward the cadets, and stopped about ten feet away. The riders dismounted, removed their headgear and goggles, and spit in the sand.

Gina whispered to Sunul, "They look like they’re from the movie Mad Max."

Uh-huh. Sunul was watching for any hostile actions, but the men didn’t seem to have any weapons, but their appearance would probably unnerve most civilians. Sunul noticed both men had lunar detention numbers tattooed on their arms and necks. Both had shaved heads.

The closer man, heavyset, and about five-inches shorter than the other, snickered, You’re kinda far from school, ain’t ya? Where’s yore ride? Yore school bus leave ya here?

We parked our air scooters about a kilometer from here. We felt like walking in the sand, Sunul lied. You’re driving polluters. What are you gentlemen doing out here?

The taller man laughed and slapped his buddy on the back. Gentlemen! Hah! That’s a good one, Puff.

Puff smiled, Best I heared all day, Slip. Now, we’re gentlemen. We come out here to see where the astronauts train for goin’ to Centauri. Ain’t that right, Slip?

Yep, but you young birds sure ain’t astronauts. You take a day off from classes at Roswell? You playin’ hooky?

Gina decided to join the conversation. Like he said, we’re out for a walk in the sand. We go to school in Las Cruces—New Mexico State. We’re on a field trip.

Now, yore sure a pretty thing, ain’t ya? How about leavin’ your lab pardner here and we’ll go have some fun? Take off that uniform and cool down over there in the shade. We won’t do nuthin’ but look. Puff loosened his belt, reached into his pants, and pulled out a switchblade.

Sunul stepped up to confront Puff and said, I’d like to beat the shit out of you two ass-holes, but I recently had brain surgery and I’m not allowed to fight. Another lie, but fighting was another violation of protocol. Sunul couldn’t risk expulsion after all the sacrifices he had made to get into the program.

When it looked like Sunul was going to have trouble, Gina had squeezed the two buttons on her collar, a standard request for immediate assistance. In a couple of seconds, a computerized male voice could be heard, Travelers, you are under arrest. Please drop your weapon in the sand. This is your only warning. You have five seconds to comply.

Hah! I’ll cut this little boy to bits in five seconds. How about that!?

Slip yelled to Puff, Lookit yore hand, Puff!

There was a small red cloud centered on the knife in Puff’s left hand. He suddenly yelled, Goddamn! and dropped the switchblade.

The computer voice had given Sunul directions over his earpiece. Sunul picked up the warm knife, walked over to the two bikes and stabbed the gas tanks twice, once on top and once on the bottom, twisting the blade to make large holes.

Hey! That’s all the gas we got, you little shit! He rushed to his bike and tried to cover the bottom hole in his tank, but the gas continued to leak from the punctured container and dripped into the sand.

Sunul said, I’d advise you to step away from your bike. Sunul joined Gina and they stepped back to the rocks, about twenty yards from the men and their bikes. He whispered into Gina’s ear, The gasoline might explode, get down and turn toward the rocks.

There was a short laser burst from above them and the gasoline in the sand burst into flames which ignited the rubber tires and the seats. Puff and Slip stepped back and watched as their bikes were consumed by fire, black smoke rising into the air. Before the smoke had cleared, there was a prolonged laser burst, perhaps twenty seconds in duration. The engines melted, the liquid metal puddling beneath what remained of their motorcycles.

Puff looked at the two cadets, Son of a bitch! How can we get back to civilization? We’re fifty miles from nowhere. You gunna give us a ride?

Nope, those guys will. Gina pointed at the incoming light-blue air-patrol vehicle. They’ll take you right where you belong—until you return to the lunar facility: your final destination, where you can rot.

Chapter 2

Some Other Cadets

Monel Trask and Jar’l Mason had grown up in Detroit, the manufacturing center for nearly all solar-powered vehicles since the Trump presidency sixty-four years earlier. The only exception was for large trucks, which were assembled in Dallas, Texas. The only ebony-Americans in the program, Monel and Jar’l were sure to be selected for the final crew headed to Alpha Centauri. Monel and Jar’l had become engaged just prior to being accepted into the interstellar program. They had passed the psychological testing without any negative scores, an exceptional accomplishment.

Monel and Jar’l had ascended the rock wall tower which housed the training complex and had begun their descent by rappelling from the top of the spire, when they saw the Air-Police vehicle arrive over one hundred feet below. By the time the rappel was complete, the police vehicle had been loaded. Two prisoners and some scrap metal were on the way to Las Cruces, where the southwestern holding facility for criminals was located. Once sentenced, the guilty were taken to either California or Florida, to begin their journey to the far side of the moon. Their second offenses qualified them for double sentences. They would be excavating sub-surface living quarters for many years.

The two climbers waited by the hatchway for Gina and Sunul to work their way up the incline from the desert below. As they waited, they removed their climbing gear, and coiled the long ropes.

Jar’l yelled, Hey, Sunul, what was that all about?

Not much, actually. Two gasoholics were attempting to get some sexual favors from Gina. The robotic sentry guard detected their intent and melted their gas engines. Gina called the air patrol to come pick up the subhuman freaks. They’ll do some more time at the lunar detention facility. Maybe they’ll learn, but I doubt it. We’ll be off earth by the time they get released.

Monel questioned, You think Gina and you are going to Centauri?

I’m pretty confident. We’re tops in our respective fields, and we like each other. Sunul looked at Gina and they both smiled.

That’s the way we feel, too. Monel smiled and put her arm around Jar’l’s waist.

Jar’l waved toward the sun and suggested, Let’s go inside. It’s going to be 112 degrees today at four o’clock. It must be over 100 now, and it’s only two o’clock. We could all get too much sun.

Let’s come out earlier in the day and enjoy the sun. It won’t be long before we’ll only have artificial sunlight—for forty years. I wonder how we’ll feel about the sun then. Monel raised her eyebrows, took a deep breath, and followed Jar’l through the hatch.

Sunul guided Gina through the opening and said, Monel made a good point. We should make use of a good thing while we can. Gina reached to the side and tapped the glowing green close and red lock panels.

Gina wiped her forehead with her shirt sleeve and uttered, I do prefer the air conditioned atmosphere of the complex. Sunul, you need to get a clean shirt. I don’t like the way the other women are looking at your muscles.

Sunul smiled and replied, I don’t mind. Those looks don’t hurt. He started to sit in the nearest chair, but then straightened up and walked quickly toward his quarters. About ten feet down the hall, he stopped and keyed in his personal code on the wall panel. The door slid sideways and he stepped into his room, tapped the door frame to shut the entryway, and sat on his bed. Isolated from the others, he opened his lockbox, a small safe located in the wall above his pillow, and withdrew a small rectangular notebook about half-an-inch thick.

He stated, Personnel notes.

Crew member, please. It was the voice of the secretary at mission headquarters in the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Pasadena, California. Sunul smiled, the lady had a slight hesitancy when she said words beginning with m. He thought it was because of a stutter she had when a child.

Virginia Nelson.

Observation, please.

I think she’s the one. She knocks me out—just the woman I’ve been looking for.

Anything else?

Yes. What are the specialties of Jar’l and Monel?

Jar’l: Nuclear Propulsion and Communications; reverse for Monel.

Thank you, Data One. Please update master file. End.

Yes, Lieutenant Burke. Files updated. Out.

Sunul slipped into a clean shirt, replaced his personal data book in the concealed safe, and said, Lock data. A two-tone sound was heard and Sunul went back to the master console.

He sat beside Jar’l and asked, Who’s the cadet with glasses—at the console?

Name’s Brinar Wicks. He’s a specialist in resource conservation and waste management. He likes the blonde bombshell, but I don’t think it’s mutual. She likes more muscles. You’d better watch out. He’ll have to start working out if he wants to hook up with her. By the way, her name is Brea Foster.

Of the sixteen cadets on site, Sunul knew the names of only six, including himself. He would have to ask Data One to review all the candidates. He needed to know all their names and strengths. He wasn’t sure, but without instructors, the cadets might have to choose the crew members of operation Far Ice.

When plans for the mission were initiated, those in charge selected individuals that were self-learners, so other than computers, and extensive data libraries, the cadets were on their own. Sixteen cadets had been selected from a group of thirty-two potential astronauts.

Prior to travelling to the complex from the NASA Propulsion Laboratory, each cadet was given intelligence and psychological examinations and had to have a minimal adjusted IQ of 140. The adjustment was accomplished by a surgical implantation of brain segments from world-renowned experts in various fields deemed important to the success of the mission. Brain augmentation surgery, performed in a highly sterile operating suite, was accomplished at the UCLA medical center. The augmentation surgery had been proven in the year 2051, almost simultaneously at medical schools in Massachusetts, Washington State, and Missouri. The only assistance given the cadets was a protocol manual. The cadets had to rely on common sense. Four married couples would make the journey to Alpha Centauri, the closest star to the sun.

A